Every 5 Seconds
by emication
Summary: They say that, on average, a person dies every five seconds.


Title: Every 5 Seconds

Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net

Rating: PG-15

Pairings: 3+4, 1+2+1

Warnings: shonen ai, angst, suicide, language, sap

Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit.

Comments: This is my first time actually attempting 

Wufei, so I'm sorry if he seems a little off. Quatre 

might seem weird too. I think it has a fairly light 

atmosphere for a dark fic, but I'm pleased with the way

it turned out. Let me know what you think!

**Every 5 Seconds**

When you grow up in the shadow of the dead, you get used to things and understand it's an integral part of life…just like breathing or eating, so becoming a pilot in the colonies' vendetta against the Earth seemed like no big deal. Worst-case scenario, I'd become a shrapnel mess of bones, flesh, blood, and Gundanium splattered across an OZ base somewhere. Not too bad considering there are other ways to go. If everyone dies eventually, a blaze of glory seems to be the best way to go about it.

So it was fair to say that my relationship with death was on a fairly intimate level. Therefore my adoption of the title Shinigami seemed fitting. It's some little curse that affects everyone I touch. If you get too close to me it'll only be a matter of time before your stay in the mortal realm is up.

Survival taught me not to get too close to anybody. Not for my own safety, mind you, but for theirs. Solo, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen… It's all my fault so just stop this false sympathy. Solo died because I wasn't fast enough. Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and everyone at Maxwell Church that day died because I wasn't fast enough.

Now you see why I'm always running or on the run or just moving as fast as I can. You never know whose life can be saved or destroyed by every little motion of life, so my life is in the fast lane. It's probably aggravating to most, but it really is saving people.

Sorry, but that is how I operate around people. Others are less concerned with you when you act happy and emotionally open with a devil-may-care attitude most of the time. It's a mask that's difficult to maintain, but it's kept a lot of people from knowing the real me.

Well except for my partner of course. Yup, I can chatter on like a monkey, express how I really feel, vent, and give his systems a general beating and he'll just sit there or whatever and deal with it. I show him my gratitude when I'm through, though. I figure he thinks the torture and abuse is worth it when I'm reaching for the lube. Yeah, Deathscythe and I have the perfect give-and-take relationship going…

Oi, you thought I was talking about someone else? Do me a favor and get your mind out of the gutter!

'Course Heero Yuy seems to find a way to bring out the worst in everyone. I don't think the guy does it on purpose, but in me he brings out the hormone-driven teenager, and a horny asshole really is more normal behavior for a guy my age than a terrorist. I leave the drooling to Relena, however, because she's a chick, and guys and chicks are supposed to be attracted to each other as opposed to a member of the same sex. At least that's how by-the-book romantic relationships work, and the Perfect Soldier is a very by-the-book kind of guy. I've been around him long enough to at least know that.

He's quite a shocking character, actually. How many times has this guy beat death since I knew who him? Stop counting…it was a rhetorical question. Heero Yuy…he just might be… He just might be strong enough to survive being my friend. Or maybe more…

Damn it, I shouldn't be thinking about that. Not now. Oh, but to steal a quote from an old movie, once you start down the dark path, forever it shall dominate your destiny. Shit, I just giggled awkwardly to myself, like a little schoolgirl, but it felt good, releasing tension in the foreshadow of what I'm about to do. Oh, Heero, the Force is with you, my man, and you don't even know it.

What I'm about to do…

Having the high and mighty intellect that I do, I know that there's only one absolutely-positively definite was of ending this curse of mine, and it should be done before somebody else gets killed. Not just Heero, either, but everyone I've know so far who's still alive. Quatre, Wufei, Trowa, Hilde, Howard and the boys, Professor G… I'm too much of a threat.

Deathscythe, buddy, I'm sorry. I know I just finished what needed to be done with your modifications and all, but I won't drag you down with me. Maybe the war will be won, you'll be put in a museum, and stories will be told of the Gundam pilot who was cursed early on in life as mortalized Death. Yeah, and when that's happening, pigs will fly, Hell will freeze over, it'll rain chocolate pudding, and Heero Yuy will have feelings. Yeah, I know, it'll never happen. I'll just be another number in the casualty count; a name without a face.

You know, looking at myself in the mirror is the hardest thing that I could ever force myself to do. A lot of people have said I'm attractive, but I'm too burdened with the lost lives of others to see what I really look like. In the glass panel, I see the equivalent of Igor from those old Frankenstein movies. Igor with a ridiculously long braid and large, blue-violet eyes.

I raise my fist in front of my face, eyeing the knuckles curiously. A sudden jerking motion brings back my entire arm and plows it forward, splintering the mirror on the medicine cabinet and even causing some pieces to fall into the sink below. I don't register the pain, just the shattered mirror and my bloodied fist. I watch the rivulets of blood run down my arm with a detached curiosity before sobering and throwing open the medicine cabinet. I sneer at the assembled drugs in their neat little rows and slam the cabinet shut again, making more of the broken mirror fly across the bathroom. The light reflects off of something below my field of vision and I'm suddenly brought back to the task at hand.

I warily eye the broken shards on the edge of the sink like they're some poisonous snake ready to lash out and sink fang in flesh, injecting lethal poison. No…this is right. This is what I have to do.

I quickly grab a triangular piece and slice crosscuts on my wrists, drawing Xs of blood on my forearms. The pain is immense yet dull and faraway at the same time. Shit, so much blood… It'll be a bitch of a mess for someone to clean up later. I should've started in the tub. The blood running down my arms and seeping into my clothes is making me slightly woozy. I slowly lower myself to the floor and a crimson pool starts to form where I'm kneeling, beginning as individual splatters but merging into a single puddle with each passing moment.

I don't remember if I heard it or read it somewhere once before, but there was some statistic saying that a person dies every five seconds on average. I smile slightly, knowing it's almost my time. My thoughts flash through the life I have had and seem to settle over my thoughts of the other Gundam pilots.

Wufei…would you understand the justice of this sacrifice? Or am I taking the weakling's way out, in your eyes? There is justice in this action, but if this is the coward's way out or not is debatable. I'm sure I could've just become a hermit and secluded myself from society, but this is faster and easier.

…5…

Quatre…please hold faith that my actions were correct. You were all getting too close to me, and that would have gotten all of you killed. As Heero once said, all obstacles must be eliminated, and that's exactly what I was or would have been if allowed to live for a little while longer.

…4…

Trowa…I expect you to understand more than anyone. We both hid behind a mask, but you're stronger and more controlled than I, it seems, because my burden got too heavy. Or maybe yours is lightened because you have someone who knows and understands the real you instead of the guise.

…3…

Heero…I'm sorry. Mission failed, neh? But I was too afraid of hurting anyone, especially you. You've eluded my curse long enough, and you can't save the world if you're dead. The hero is supposed to triumph in the end, right?

…2…

I can barely keep my eyes open. I don't feel anything anymore besides this mugginess in my head and a sense of draining throughout my body. Looks like I'm literally bleeding out my sins, doesn't it? My heart is beating faster, struggling to pump blood that's diminishing rapidly.

…1…

And now it's my turn to surrender…

*~**~*

We all heard the sound of something shattering and didn't think much of anything, really, besides thinking to send someone to make sure Maxwell hadn't done something stupid.

It wasn't until we heard Quatre's startled outcry tinged with fear did any unwary suspicions arise. Our temporary safe house wasn't very large with five rooms, three of which currently serving as bedrooms since they had the easiest access to the small bathroom.

I noticed two things upon entering the room Heero and Duo had been sharing. The first was Quatre, hands clutching his chest and trembling. He had a pained expression on his face. The second was a heavy, coppery scent in the air that every warrior recognizes…blood.

Trowa went to comfort his boyfriend, concern subtly placed on his features. When you sit back and watch like I do, you get pretty damn good at reading people. I look over to Heero who's staring at the bathroom door apprehensively. I catch a flicker of something – worry? – as he approaches cautiously. Yuy slips the mask back into place when he catches me watching him.

I breathe in a sharp intake and brace myself for the worst.

The scent of blood wafts over us, stronger now, and Duo was lying on his side in the middle of the bathroom. He could've been sleeping if it wasn't for the immense pool of blood, his arms stained crimson with long, X-shaped gashes marking his forearms and a piece of broken glass clutched in his hand. There was blood everywhere in the immediate area around him. Duo's clothes were drenched in it and the puddle on the floor was slowly seeping into his hair.

I forced the bile that rose to my mouth back down and saw Heero's eyebrows twitch as he checked for a pulse. Trowa seemed more focused on the shattered mirror, having seen enough of Duo's state and waiting for either good or bad news from Heero. Quatre was leaning heavily on the tall pilot, refusing to look at the scene he had previously stumbled into.

Like I mentioned before, sitting back and watching is a good way to be able to read other people. I had suspicions about Duo from slips in his behavior, but never considered him desperate enough to take his own life.

"He's still alive," Heero's verdict seemed to make the atmosphere lighten. "Demo his pulse is weak and thready. It'll only get worse if we don't stop the bleeding and get medical help."

It was Yuy's last three words that had me astonished the most. He couldn't have been serious! Heero doesn't allow any risks to be taken, and spending time in a hospital was a big risk. Sure Yuy probably had dozens of false IDs lying around, but all it took was one person to recognize them and OZ would have a fresh trail to follow.

That was probably why the three of us just stood there watching Heero as he grabbed some rolls of gauze. We needed the verification that he knew exactly when he had proposed.

Heero looked up again and we could see he was all business. "Wufei, help me stop the bleeding. Trowa, we'll need a false ID card for each of us and hook them up to a false account. Quatre, find the nearest hospital and tell them to get an ambulance down here fast."

As Trowa and Quatre set off to their respective tasks, I grabbed a strip of gauze and set about tightly wrapping his right forearm. Cuts on his knuckles gave away how the mirror had shattered, and looking at the jovial boy who called himself Shinigami, I began to question how well I thought I'd known him. Above all, I questioned what made him think that death would bring an end to whatever inner demons drove him to hell and back in his lifetime.

*~**~*

Duo…why didn't you say anything? You, of all of us, seemed to be the immortal one. Even I could not detect your pain to its full extremity.

We all seemed like machines going through the motions. I could barely speak to the receptionist correctly, my mind elsewhere as my mouth moved on its own. How were we supposed to know the title you proudly wore into battle was also your burden?

"Excuse me, were you the four who brought in Mr. Tomomoto?" a nurse with a clipboard in hand approached us where we were in the waiting room. We were the only people in there. I think Heero's temper scared the other people that were waiting away.

It took me a moment to realize she was talking about Duo. His pseudonym was Ryoka Tomomoto, as it had been already hacked in to government databases but hadn't been used. No one at the hospital had questioned how the American happened to have a Japanese name, but some had asked about his condition. That's why we're alone now.

"Yes, that's us," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Duo please be alright… I swallowed hard. "H-How is he?"

"He's stabilized at the moment. The blood transfusion went well, and he's on medication to keep his body from rejecting the new plasma, but that decreases the strength of Mr. Tomomoto's immune system, so we can only hope he doesn't get an infection. We also managed to remove the glass shards from his forearms, stitch the cuts, give him a tetanus shot just in case, and put doses of penicillin and a mild sedative in the IV."

I felt Trowa squeeze my hand reassuringly and couldn't help but feel better. He'd stabilized for the moment. With Irea being a doctor, I knew that meant things would look extremely well if he pulled through the next few days. The only thing that couldn't be prevented at this point was a coma. "Can we see him?"

The woman pressed her lips together tightly for a moment and frowned. "I don't see a problem with it, but no more than two at a time. If you need anything, feel free to let me know."

"Yes…thank you."

I sighed in relief, but I know the worst part is far from over. Whatever had driven Duo to try to take his own life will still be plaguing him when he is released from the hospital, and it's very likely that those same torments are distracting his drugged rest.

The mental exhaustion was terrible. We had been here for hours, and dawn was approaching soon. That's the nice thing about Earth…the natural sunlight. The colonies don't have sunrise and sunset the way the colonies do.

I yawned heavily and leaned against Trowa. Heero went in Duo's room, and Wufei was attempting to track us down something to eat. He'd probably only find that artificially flavored fruit gelatin that hospitals like to serve, but it didn't matter at this point. I must be more tired than I thought because I yawned again.

Trowa bent his head down and kissed the top of mine. "Rest, little one, while you still have the chance." I smiled at him gratefully and fell asleep.

*~**~*

Baka, look at what you did to yourself now. Look at what you did to us. You're threatening mission security, but you knew that, didn't you?

You look so serene. It must be the sedatives. I know your sleep is haunted by nightmares, and I know the way your face gets twisted with pain on bad nights. I've roomed with you for a long time, Duo; I know more than you think I do.

But I didn't know about the cutting. I didn't know about the suicide attempts. I didn't know that your valiant efforts were your own attempts at ending your life. I thought it was all me. Wakarimasu ka?

Hai, wakarimasu…gomen. I understand the desperation. The self-image of worthlessness. The wish of escape but having to carve your own exit time and time again. We understand this better than anyone. Better than the other pilots; better than Relena.

Chikusho, Duo, I'm trying so hard to stay composed right now. I'm pissed off; I'm nervous; I'm scared as hell. Hai, I'm frightened. We need you here, Duo. I need you here. You are the strongest person in the world, and it doesn't have to end this way.

Sounds hypocritical from me, doesn't it? There's a difference, though. I sacrifice myself for the mission; you sacrifice yourself for yourself. That's called being selfish, Duo, and you are so much better than that.

Last time you went to the hospital was after I busted you out of OZ. They wanted to kill you. You were bruised, cut up, ribs broken, but you still insisted you were fine. You still wanted to help me kill the scientists. You tried to hide your pain, but even then you still admitted that it did hurt.

You never consciously admitted the pain in your head. It was the pain etched on your face as you slept that told me something was wrong, but you never gave a clue to those nightmares during the day, so I passed them off as nothing.

I'm only letting myself look at your face. The bandages, machinery, tubes, buttons, and lights aren't here. It's just the peaceful look…the relaxed look…that I'm seeing. Your eyes are closed, but not squeezed shut in pain. Your mouth forms a neutral expression, neither the deep frown nor the exuberant smile you hid behind. Your lips are slightly parted, drawing in oxygen.

Duo, anata itoshii desu. Don't die on me…onegai…

*~**~*

It's been nearly twenty-four hours, and the hospital staff is feeling optimistic. Duo is off the sedative and the doses of his other medications are slowly being reduced. Heero won't let the rest of us to see him; only the doctors and nurses are granted entrance, but they are ushered out as quickly as possible.

We've been sleeping on and off, mentally exhausted from our vigilance since arrival. The potential news of Duo's death or of a patron recognizing us as Gundam pilots is keeping us wary, but I know Quatre's more worried over Duo than the rest of us.

Quatre has long since gotten used to the idea that Heero won't let any of us see Duo. He keeps worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and tenses up every time the nurses and doctor leave our comrades room with a clipboard in hand.

All I can do is give silent reassurances, and that doesn't help everyone.

Wufei demolished a vending machine. He was ranting about justice the whole time. He apparently had a blade hidden somewhere and managed to collapse the entire thing. Some lackeys from the psychiatric ward came to talk to him about anger control, and the fiasco was quite entertaining. It gave us a break from Duo's dire circumstances, and Wufei was so solemn afterwards that Quatre had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

It'd be nice to know what Heero was up to, though. He'll ask for water often enough, but that's all.

I think it's more personal than a downed comrade…much more personal. Heero confronted me once, saying that forming emotional attachments during a time of war wasn't a wise idea, but there was something in his eyes, but whether it was envy or longing, I could not distinguish. The flicker was gone in a moment, and his actions of yesterday evening only further my assumption that Heero's feelings for the braided pilot extend beyond mere friendship.

I hope he gets the chance he deserves.

*~**~*

I flutter my eyes open briefly for a moment only to quickly close them again. My eyes were definitely not prepared for the onslaught of white light. I feel different, too…kind of high, floaty, and detached. I feel like a bird, maybe, soaring through the sky on newly discovered wings…or even an angel…

Hold the phone. An angel? I slowly open my eyes again, but they seem unable to focus past the damn light. Is this death? Am I in Heaven, Hell, or In-Between? It can't be Hell, wherever this is. There's no fire and brimstone. It's just white light, more white light, and a floaty feeling.

There's movement at the edge of my vision, and I slowly turn to look, eyes adjusting enough to make out a form that looks all-too familiar yet strangely different all at once.

Heero! Why's he here? I'm dead…he can't be, as well. Why's he look different? He seems sad, but relieved and happy, also. Shit…I'm not dead. I know what this is…

"This…" I wince. My voice is scratchy, but no one is really listening but myself. "This dream…it's different from the others…"

Heero leans forward. He's over me, somehow. I must be lying down, but I can't feel anything under me, so I'm not certain.

"Duo…" His voice fills my ears, and he smiles at me. It's a small smile, but it's a genuine smile, not his I'm-going-to-kill-you-now smile or his look-you're-dead smile or his you're-not-the-boss-of-me smile, but an actual smile. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, dream or not. The sincerity of it all…like he truly cares. He brought his hand up to cup my face, brushing his thumb over my cheek and lips. "Duo no baka."

I smile a little in response, feeling tears well up in my eyes for no obvious reason. It's going to be one of those good dreams that leave a mess in your boxers afterwards…

Without warning Heero tilted his head down and kissed my lips gently, and that's when I let the tears go freely. This dream is different. He was never this gentle before, and Heero's being way kinder to me than I deserve. My subconscious has one hell of a sense of humor. This isn't fair.

I kiss him back with greater magnitude, prying apart his lips with my tongue and delving into the sweet, warm recesses of his mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck and crush his body flush against mine. Somewhere I felt pain, but it seemed distant and hollow, and I was too focused on plundering the treasure before me.

"Oh my god, please don't end! Oh my god, please don't end!" ran like a mantra through my mind. The pain kept coming closer but I didn't care. The lights were seeming dimmer and started to form more noticeable shapes, but I wasn't paying too much attention to that, either.

A burning need in my lungs reminded me that all good things come to an end. We broke apart, breathing heavily, but the normally taciturn sapphires of Heero's eyes were glowing, and everything I wanted to say came out in a choked sob. It wasn't a dream. I am in a hospital. There were bandages on my wrists. Heero was here now, and all I could manage to do was cry.

"Shh, watashi no aisuru, don't speak." His beloved? Me? "You scared us all, baka." The last word was used more endearingly than harshly, and I was starting to wonder if Heero had found any magical pills while I was out.

"He-Heero…I-I'm s…" Come on, Maxwell, you know how to talk! What the fuck is wrong with you?

"Duo…don't ever do anything as fool-hardy and just plain stupid again! What would have happened to the mission if you died? Do you know the operating procedures we had to abandon to get you help because, chikusho, we thought you were going to die? Don't think you can apologize yourself out of this one, either." He was silent for a moment. I was afraid to say anything, more or less breath, so it was safe to say that an awkward silence had followed. After a couple seconds that seemed like half an hour, Heero continued at a whisper, angled away so I couldn't see his eyes through his messy bangs. "Did you ever think about what your actions would do to me?"

"Heero," I breathed, feeling tired, miserable, and confused. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"Hai…you do."

I sighed deeply and looked at him, amethyst burning into sapphire. "Heero…I'm Shinigami. Anyone who gets too close to me will die, so I must end the curse from the source, and the price is my own life. I can't afford to love anyone, which really is a pain in the ass, Heero, because since I met you it's been hard to keep that in mind!" I couldn't believe I let that all out in the open for it to float around for anyone's critique, but it felt good to release some of it.

It felt good to share the pain just like it felt good to kiss Heero.

"Duo, do you love me?" I was reluctant to answer. I had pretty much said so already, but I didn't say the words precisely.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, Heero," I whispered gravelly, "I love you. I, Duo Maxwell, love Heero Yuy and will do so eternally." I looked away from him, afraid to see loathing on his face. True, he did kiss me, but I was the one who had initiated it further.

"Ai shiteru, Duo. Ai shiteru tsune ni."

I looked up, startled, and smiled as his lips crushed against mine, forgetting the world around us and just savoring each other.

I don't remember if I heard it or read it somewhere once before, but there was some statistic saying that a person dies every five seconds on average.

It must not be my time.

*~**~*

Owari


End file.
